Misfire
by BlackMasquerade
Summary: A Navy Captian is shot outside of the Everett Naval Station in Washington while the team is in Seattle for a crime convention. When Tony falls victim to the same shooter the team finds a new urgency to solve the case before time runs out.
1. Chapter 1

Tony DiNozzo removed his NCIS cap and scratched his head as he looked over the grassy, 50-foot, near-vertical drop to the bottom of a forested ravine where the body of Captain Xavier LaRoque had been found only three hours prior.

"Boss, I don't get it." He said.

"You don't get what, DiNozzo?" Gibbs stood next to his senior field agent and surveyed the tree-tops while taking a deep breath of the fresh Cascade mountain air.

"How do we get down there?" DiNozzo replaced his cap.

"I dunno. Figure it out. Our Captain did." Gibbs clapped him on the shoulder nearly knocking him down the hill and left him there. Tony looked down into the ravine and sighed.

He had not signed up to process yet another murder when Gibbs had decided to take him and Ziva to a criminalistics convention in Seattle, Washington. They had left McGee and Abby alone with Ducky and Jimmy Palmer to hold down the fort back in D.C.

The local authorities had thought it appropriate to send the D.C. crew in to investigate the murder of the Naval Captain.

"Need help, Tony?" Ziva snuck up behind him and whispered in his ear causing him to jump, which nearly sent him toppling over the edge again.

"Why? Think you could figure this out any faster than I can, Zee-vah?" Tony said eyeing his partner suspiciously whilst attempting to salvage some dignity.

"Yes, I do." She said. She planted her right foot over the edge and crouched on her left. She inched slowly over the edge keeping a fistful of grass in her left hand. She suddenly released the grass and, keeping her left hand on the grass to slow her descent, began to slide down the hill rapidly. Tony watched anxiously until she reached the bottom. Once she stopped she stood, straightened her windbreaker and bowed sarcastically up to Tony.

"Here, DiNozzo, do something useful." Gibbs handed him his and Ziva's kits. "Slide these down."

"Yes, boss." Tony cautiously slid the boxes down lengthwise to avoid them tipping over. Ziva collected them at the bottom.

Gibbs took up Ziva's starting position and motioned for Tony to follow. The two men began their descent. Halfway down Tony's muscles tensed and he lost control. His extended leg caught a rock, but his body kept going which caused him to roll ass over teakettle the rest of the way down. He landed spread-eagled on the ground, groaning dramatically. Gibbs and Ziva looked down at him.

"Having fun, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"No, sir."

"Then get up."

"Yes, boss."

Tony stood and brushed off his slacks and windbreaker. Ziva handed him his hat and winked at him.

"Sarcasm doesn't become you Agent David."

"Nor does cowardice become you, Tony." She laughed and ducked under the crime scene tape. Tony followed and the pair walked several feet behind their boss through the thick woods.

They came upon the body of Captain Xavier LaRoque. His eyes were half-closed exposing green irises which reminded Tony of McGee's eyes. His hair was sheared short. He wore a navy coloured windbreaker, similar to the ones the team wore, and dark blue jeans with hiking boots.

His body was in a sitting position against a tree. He would have looked like a normal dead body had there not been a foot-and-a-half long wooden arrow shaft impaling his chest.

The blood pool soaking his shirt and the ground around him suggested he had been shot there and had not moved much.

Tony flinched as his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He opened it to see that Abby had initiated a video call.

"Tony!" Abby exclaimed happily. "I found you! Where have you been? I've been trying you for an hour…"

"Crime scene."

"Oh wow! All the way out in Seattle? What happened?"

"Captain was shot. You know anything about arrows?"

"Not much but I know someone who does."

"Get them ready for a video conference at 1700 your time Abbs." Gibbs said over Tony's shoulder.

"Actually, she's here right now if you want to talk to her…"

Gibbs looked at the body. "Might as well."

Abby smiled and looked out the left side of Tony's phone. "Melissa! Your expertise is needed!"

A teenage girl popped onto the screen. Tony recoiled slightly. "Who's that?" he asked

"This is Melissa; she's my friend's daughter. Well, adopted daughter. Carrie's way too young to have a sixteen-year-old daughter…"

"Thanks, Abbs." Tony looked at Gibbs. "You think she can help?"

"We'll see." Gibbs took the phone. "Melissa, can you handle a dead body?" he asked bluntly.

"Yeah, sure."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow as if to say _you asked for it_.

He turned the phone so that the arrow was in complete view of the camera. "Dictate, Melissa."

"Hmmm." She said thoughtfully. "The arrow was made for a long bow. You don't use wooden shafts for recurve or compound. Looks homemade, too, the fletching is badly applied." She referred to the bright red fletches, or feathers, on the end of the arrow which had been messily glue on. "It's all made from store-bought materials, you can't get those synthetic fletches just anywhere. If you want to find out who made the arrow, you'll want to check with the local archery centre or supply store. They might be able to help you find a list of people who bought that particular kind of fletching. May I see his hands for a moment?"

Gibbs complied and moved the camera to see the victim's blood-stained hands.

"Ten bucks says it's a broad-head tip. Those tips are specifically designed for hunting. They _do not come out_. The blood on his hands and the bloody finger prints on the bottom of the shaft are consistent with the theory that he didn't know it was a broad-head and was trying to pull it out himself. The agitation would have caused more damage and made him bleed out faster.

"He was most likely shot by a hunter. No target shooter uses broad-heads."

"Why not?" Tony inquired.

"They're discouraged for indoor use because they're designed not to come out, right. They'd tear up the butts if you used them indoors."

"They'd tear up the _what_?" Tony did a double take.

"The thing they put the targets on."

"Oh."

"Thanks, Melissa, can you put Abby back on?" Gibbs turned the phone back around so he was facing the camera.

Abby reappeared. "Isn't she awesome?"

"Yep. I want you and McGee on the next flight out of D.C. I don't want to work with someone else's team. You and McGee get out here now."

"Yes, boss."

Gibbs hung up and gave Tony his phone back. Ziva approached the two men.

"What'd the guy who found him have to say?" Gibbs asked.

"His name is Lieutenant Robert Rimm. He went out looking for the Captain three hours when he didn't come back from a run. He said the Captain liked to come out here alone when he was off duty. Both men are stationed at the Everett Naval Station." Ziva read from her notes. "Captain LaRoque had a wife and a daughter. Oddly enough, the Captain's daughter and the Lieutenant's son practice archery together."

Gibbs looked up at her from where he was crouched on the ground next to the body. "You're kidding?"

"No. Would you like me to…" she stopped when she saw the look on his face. "I'll… bring her in." She took out her phone and dialed.

A Seattle Medical Examiner, Doctor Steve Lloyd, and his assistant, James Smith, slid down the hill to meet Gibbs and his two present agents.

Tony shook the two men's hands but Gibbs did not; he simply stared at the ME's outstretched hand with raised eyebrows until he put it down and muttered an "excuse me". Dr Lloyd crouched by the body to begin his work.

"Tony, I want you and Ziva to fan out. Find me something I can work with." Gibbs instructed.

"Yes, boss. What are you expecting us to find? A murder weapon?" Tony asked.

"Just find me something to go on, DiNozzo." Gibbs repeated with an irritated tone.

Ziva had just returned from making her call to the police to bring in the family of Captain LaRoque. Tony turned her around to go find evidence.

"When'd he die?" Gibbs asked as they walked away.

"I'd say four to five hours ago. From the looks of things I'd say he bled out from this wound to the chest." The ME reported, the voices fading into the background.

"You think?" Gibbs gave him the _no shit_ voice as they wandered out of earshot.

"Ziva, what would you do if we ran into a bear out here?" Tony asked as he scanned the ground and the shrubbery.

"Unlikely. But if it threatened us I would shoot it for you." She said as she struggled over a huge root.

"For me?" Tony called back as they wandered further apart.

"Yes. I suppose you're asking out of fear of being attacked, yes?"

"No! No! I was just wondering what you would do in the presence of an animal with six times the temper and aggression of Gibbs." Tony gasped. "Bear!" He pointed. Ziva whipped out her weapon and looked around wildly. Tony laughed. "Gotcha."

Ziva walked over to him, backed him into a tree and put the barrel of her gun under his chin.

"_Never_ do that to me again." She whispered.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry." He replied worriedly.

She smiled, smacked him and left to keep searching. After several minutes she could no longer see Tony.

"Tony?" she called. She couldn't remember how long it had been since she'd seen him.

"Yeah?" came his far off reply.

"Find anything?"

"Not yet."

Several minutes later Ziva thought she heard a _thunk_. She put her hand on her gun. A bird burst from a tree and she started, then laughed at herself.

A bright flash of red caught her eye. It danced in and out between the thick trees. Ziva was sure it was a bird and went back to work. Another dull _thunk_ reached her ears and she glanced around. Nothing.

She crouched down to see a piece of ripped fabric hanging at waist height on a bush. It was maybe three square inches of white cotton material. The hem on one edge suggested that it had come from the bottom of a shirt. Ziva pulled an evidence bag from her windbreaker pocket and bagged the fabric patch.

"Tony!" she called when she stood up. Nothing.

"Tony!" she called again, deciding she'd gone out of earshot. She walked almost fifty feet back the way she had come before she yelled again.

"Tony!"

A distant, agonized groan came in response.

"Tony!" Ziva called again, drawing her weapon praying that he was joking again. "Tony!" she followed the agonized groans.

"Tony!"

"Gaahhhhh!" the groan was suddenly quite close.

Ziva saw his leg twitching behind a tree. She had her gun at the ready as she moved in a wide circle around him.

She dropped her gun when she saw him and ran to his prone body. He was lying on his side, a wooden arrow shaft protruding from his right shoulder. His hat lay on the ground above his head and his windbreaker was soaked in quickly drying blood.

"Tony… hang on… I'm calling Gibbs…" Ziva felt unnaturally frazzled as she scrambled for her phone. Her knees ground into the dirt, leaves and blood on the ground.

Tony suddenly reached up, breathing heavily, and grabbed both her fumbling hands with one of his.

A small trail of blood leaked out of his mouth when he spoke.

"No reception. Tried." He convulsed and grimaced in pain.

Ziva held his hand with one of hers and touched his face with the other. Her fingertips never left his cooling skin as she traced his jaw, down his throat, along his quivering collarbone and closed around the arrow shaft, poised to pull.

"No!" Tony cried.

"I have to… it is hurting you… yes?"

"Ziva," he wheezed sternly. "It is hurting me but it's possibly keeping me alive as well. You know, stopping blood flow?" Ziva nodded releasing the arrow shaft. "Besides, the tip's designed not to come out."

"How do you..?"

"We called Abbs and he niece told us." He groaned again. "You need to go to Gibbs…"

"Not without you."

"We have no choice, Ziva. Go. I'll be…" a scream of pain erupted from his stubbled throat and more blood trickled out of his mouth. She wiped it away, tears forming in her eyes. His chest rose and fell heavily. "I'll be here when you get back." He grinned weakly.

Ziva sighed and laid the back of her hand over her lips. "If you are not alive when I get back I will revive you and shoot you." She warned. "You will stay alive, yes?"

Tony grimaced but nodded. His breathing was heavier now, as though he had just run a marathon.

She touched his face one last time before running off to find Gibbs.


	2. Chapter 2

Ziva and Gibbs looked on from the bottom of the hill as Tony was dragged up on a stretcher. He had lost a tremendous amount of blood and needed assistance breathing. Two EMT's at the top of the hill pulled the stretcher up steadily on ropes. Ziva's heart ached every time Tony flinched in pain from a bump the stretcher ran over.

The arrow shaft had been cut down to half the length and the removed end bagged for evidence. As far as Ziva and Gibbs could tell, the arrow was exactly the same as the one that killed the Captain. A plain wooden shaft with messily applied red fletching.

The medics loaded Tony into the back of the ambulance and turned the lights and sirens on as they drove away. The two agents watched the rear of the ambulance turn the corner and disappear. It was heading to the Swedish Medical Centre in Seattle.

Gibbs gave Ziva's hand a small squeeze and turned to head back to the crime scene.

"Gibbs, I found a patch of material that may have been from the attacker's shirt…" Ziva said pulling the evidence from her pocket.

"Good. You're not going back out there without backup, for all we know this guy's hunting us now."

Ziva nodded. "Yes, boss. Are we expecting assistance from the city's crime unit? Or are we working alone?"

"Abby and McGee are on their way in. I will not use anyone else's team, Ziva." Gibbs stopped and turned to look at her.

"Gibbs… do you think…" she sighed. "Will Tony be alright?"

"I'm not a doctor, Ziva." He said turning to continue the few remaining feet to the body which was being bagged and prepared for departure. "But, no, I don't think he'll die. Tony's too hard headed for that."

Ziva had to laugh. "He has survived the pneumonic plague, yes? I don't think a little arrow to the chest will stop him." She tried to reassure herself.

Gibbs smiled to himself. _A little arrow, indeed,_ said Ducky's voice in his head. Suddenly he wished his ME was here instead of this thirty-something piece of work the Seattle crime unit had sent him to work with.

"Well, Agent Gibbs," the ME's assistant came forward removing his gloves, "we're gonna take the body back into the city, prep him for autopsy. We'll give you whatever we find. Our supervisor…"

"Will not be involved, Mr Smith."

"Uh… yes… yes, sir…" James Smith replied.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Get that body to your office!" Gibbs said, annoyed with the disorganization of the group. He was used to Ducky and Jimmy Palmer and _his_ team working in such an organized fashion as they did under his guidance. He had trained them all so well and he disliked being put in a situation full of incompetent hands. That was half the reason he disliked Probies, with the exception of McGee.

The bumbling assistant wandered away to join his doctor and Gibbs returned to Ziva's side to search the area around the tree.

"See anything, Ziva?"

"No. Just blood and lots of it. If we can track the trajectory of the arrow we might find out where it was shot from."

"Which way, Ziva?"

"Assuming he fell where he was shot, and didn't move halfway around the tree to hide from his attacker, the shooter was standing somewhere over there." She pointed in a general east northeast direction.

"Do we know how far back he was?"

"I have limited archery knowledge, Gibbs, but I am sure that he couldn't have been far. The arrow had enough velocity to pierce deeply into the Captain's chest so the shooter was relatively close and the bow had a high pound draw."

"How high, Ziva?"

"To my knowledge Native Americans used bows with up to ninety pounds of draw for hunting. I have heard of some bows as low as thirty pounds. The farther away he was, the higher the draw he would need."

"How good are you at physics?"

"Compared to McGee? Terrible." Ziva admitted leading her boss into the woods in search of evidence. "If we can place the shooter, I would say we should take down measurements and give them to McGee when he arrives. He could narrow our search for a weapon."

"Good idea. If we can find the draw weight of the bow, we might be able to figure out who in this area shoots that bow weight, assuming the shooter was from the area." Gibbs said, jumping over a small boulder.

"How would we find him, Gibbs? Bows are not licensed as guns are."

"People with an interest as unique as archery have a very tight-knit community, Ziva. Everybody knows everybody, usually. And in any case, how many stores could possibly sell archery equipment in Seattle? We'll find a salesman, find out who bought the kind of bow we're looking for and we'll find our shooter, hopefully." He bent down suddenly, causing Ziva to stop as well.

Her eyes followed his extended finger to see a set of foot prints, shoulder-width apart the long edge of the shoe was pointed towards the victim suggesting an archer at full draw.

"Get this print. We might be able to figure out what kinda shoes this guy wears." Gibbs stood and moved around the area to look for more evidence while Ziva took digital pictures of the shoe print.

He put on a pair of gloves and bent again to pick up a piece of synthetic red fibre on the ground. Ziva looked at it from her place a few feet from him.

"Looks like the same material as the feathers from the arrows." She stated. "Do you think that he might have lost an arrow or two out there in the woods? While he was hunting? We may be able to find one that was not pulled at by the victim or cut down the paramedics and find some fingerprints."

"Possible. You said Tony didn't touch the arrow in his chest?"

"No. But I… I did… foolishly. I wanted to remove it but he stopped me. I wore gloves, but I may have smudged…" Ziva looked into the face of her supervisor which portrayed his classic _are you an idiot?_ look. "I know, it was foolish. A mistake I wish I could take back."

Gibbs sighed heavily and bagged the feather fibre. "David… there is no excuse for ruining evidence. Even…"

"Even to try to save Tony's life?" Ziva asked, temporarily losing control of her temper. She regained her composure and looked up at Gibbs, who had stood. He stared back at the place where the Captain had laid, dead. He positioned his feet next to the foot prints in the same fashion they were in and raised his arms as though he were drawing a long bow. His body bent forward slightly at the waist, his left arm extended before him as though holding the bow and his right hand curled around an invisible string at the corner of his mouth.

He lowered his arms and stood straight again. "This guy was a pro. The path down to where the Captain was found is slim, barely passable through these trees. He missed all of them."

Ziva looked in the direction of where the body had been and nodded in agreement.

They searched the scene for nearly an hour before Gibbs' phone rang.

"Gibbs." He answered. "Alright… Thanks." He hung up. "The daughter and wife are in." He looked around the scene one more time. "We're not finding anything else." He stated with finality and led Ziva back to the hill to begin a tricky assent.

******************************************************************************************

Ziva stood behind the one-way glass of the interrogation room watching as Gibbs entered to talk to the daughter of the Captain.

The fifteen-year-old girl sniffed and crossed her legs causing her shoulder-length curly hair to bounce about her heart-shaped face with the movement. Her deep green eyes stared into Gibbs' as he folded his hands in front of him on the table.

After a moment of silence he spoke. "I'm very sorry for your loss Miss LaRoque."

"As am I. My father was a good man. He was a dedicated officer and a wonderful father." She said in a smooth mezzo-alto.

"Miss LaRoque…"

"Christine. Please."

"Alright, Christine. Are you aware of how your father was killed?" When the girl shook her head Gibbs continued. "He was shot in the chest. With an arrow."

Christine recoiled at the tone he used. It was almost accusatory. A tactic Gibbs was famous for.

"Lieutenant Rimm found your father. He told us that you and his son practiced archery together."

"Yes we do. We are in very different age groups, Agent Gibbs, if you were wondering. His son is seven."

"I see. What kind of bow to you shoot?"

"I mainly use recurve. I occasionally use my long bow."

"Do you shoot with wooden arrows on your longbow?"

Christine raised an eyebrow. "You don't typically use anything else on a long bow, Agent Gibbs."

"What do your arrows look like?"

"I have nearly thirty, they are all mismatched. I don't have four that are alike."

Gibbs pulled out a photograph of the arrow half that had been cut from Tony's shoulder. "Do any of them look like this?"

"No."

"Do you know whose it is?"

"It could be anyone's. I cannot be familiar with everyone's longbow arrows, there are far too many and they are all different."

"Can you tell us who made this arrow, then?"

"What makes you think I can tell you that?"

"I have a contact that said that this arrow was fletched badly. A homemade job. Can you tell who made this arrow?"

Christine sighed and picked up the photograph and studied the fletching. "Yes, I do know who made this."

"Who?"

"Agent Gibbs, even if I tell you, she makes arrows for half the longbow shooters in Seattle; anyone could have shot this arrow."

"Well, tell me. It'll give us a suspect."

"Her name is Lyndsey Rutherford. But, as I said, she makes arrows for half the longbow shooters in Seattle. Even me."

"Where does she shoot?"

"She and I both shoot at the Seattle Archery Centre. It's on the south end of town."

"Would she be there now?"

"Yes, most likely."

Gibbs stood and looked at the one-way glass. "Ziva. Field-trip."

Ziva nodded at the window and put her phone back her pocket as she left.

"Who were you phoning?" Gibbs asked.

"The hospital. I was inquiring about Tony's condition."

"And?"

"He's still in surgery. The arrow is being difficult. It has lodged itself into his collarbone and will not come out easily. It will be a few more hours."

Gibbs stopped her before they entered the elevator. "He _will_ be okay, Ziva." He promised.

Ziva smiled at him, willing herself to believe him. She just wished that she truly did believe him. She saw the Captain, a similar wound, though his was more in the central torso as opposed to the shoulder, who had bled to death. She said a prayer in the elevator that she would get to see Tony alive again.


	3. Chapter 3

The black dodge neon rental car containing Agents Gibbs and David approached the large warehouse-esque building that was the Seattle Archery Centre.

The two had just received a call from McGee in the car saying that they had arrived in Denver and were about to board the plane for Seattle. They would be in at roughly 2100.

Ziva and Gibbs exited the vehicle and Gibbs removed his sunglasses. It was an unusually sunny day for Seattle.

Several cars and pick-up trucks adorned with camouflage and archery slogan bumper stickers sat parked neatly in rows outside the front of the tan building. A dog barked from inside the cab of one of the trucks. A golden Cadillac sat next to the front door with a war veteran license plate next to a deer shaped bumper-sticker.

Gibbs held the glass door open for Ziva and followed her inside. A long, bar-like front desk covered the left hand wall, next to it a door led up to the second floor. Across from the bar was a storage room full of boxes with prominent labels and pictures of black and grey wildlife printed on the cardboard.

A short middle-aged woman of Indian descent stood behind the counter with a phone cradled in her neck. She massaged lotion into her small chocolate coloured skin. She held up a finger as Gibbs approached the desk.

"Oh, alright… thank you… buh-bye." She hung the phone up and looked up at Gibbs with huge eyes. "Can I fit you with a rental, sir?"

"We're not shooting."Gibbs said bluntly. "We're looking for Lydsay Rutherford, is she here?"

"Oh, no. She's out in Olympia today. She's visiting her mother at the hospital there. She's dying of skin cancer." The woman shook her head apologetically.

"Do you know when she'll be back?"

"Not for sure but if you tell me your name I'll let her know you stopped in."

"She doesn't know us." Gibbs reached into his pocket and handed the woman his card. "Call me when she gets back in."

The woman looked suspiciously at the card. "Is she in some kind of trouble… _Agent_ Gibbs?"

"We're not sure yet." Gibbs said turning to leave with Ziva. He stopped cold with his hand on the door. He turned slowly and approached the desk one last time. "What did you say your name was again?" He folded his arms on the desk and leaned down to talk to her. Her head was now three inches above his.

"I didn't. Salma Rodgers. Co-owner of the Seattle Archery Centre." She folded her own arms across her chest.

"Salma." Gibbs nodded. "I think you might be able to help me out. Do you know all the regulars here?"

"Anyone who walks through those doors either is a regular or will be soon. Why?"

Gibbs took the photo of the arrow end from the folder Ziva carried. He turned it and handed it to Salma.

"Do you know who shoots these arrows?"

"Agent Gibbs… all I can tell you about this arrow is that a long bowman shoots it. The fletching is badly applied, I have no idea who made-"

"Lyndsay Rutherford."

"Well," she handed the picture back. "Then it's a really old arrow. One of the first she made. Her fletching technique has improved immensely. Why is the tip missing? The arrow's very short…"

"Yeah. This is only half the arrow." Gibbs stood to full height again. "The other half is being surgically removed from one of my agents." He said bitterly.

Salma put a tiny hand over her mouth. "Oh, God. I'm so, so sorry! Is he… dead?" she asked hesitantly.

"Not yet." Gibbs said.

"Agent Gibbs… I really wish I could be of more help but I've never seen this arrow before in my life."

"You can help us by telling us when Lyndsay Rutherford gets back here."

"Yes, Agent Gibbs, of course."

"Thank you, Salma." Gibbs and Ziva left without another word.

Once they were out in the sun again Ziva spoke up. "Now what, Gibbs?"

"We wait."

"For what?"

"McGee and Abby. DiNozzo. Lyndsay Rutherford. Whoever comes first." Gibbs sat in the car and ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"When she asked if Tony was dead… you said 'Not yet'. Do you think he will make it?"

"I really hope so Ziva." He put the car in gear and drove off.

******************************************************************************************

"Gibbs! Is Tony alright?" Abby attacked Gibbs with a hug when they met up at the crime lab in Seattle.

"So far. It takes a lot to down him, Abbs, you know that. McGee." The men shook hands. Gibbs looked down at Ziva. "Get McGee those measurements and find out what kind of bow we're looking for."

Ziva nodded and led McGee off to calculate.

Gibbs turned to his anxious looking scientist. "Abbs, I need you to find fingerprints."

"Anything, Gibbs. Is he out of surgery yet? He's been in for hours."

"Yeah, finally. He lost a lot of blood, he's not looking much better than he did when they got him up there. He's in critical." Gibbs decided to answer truthfully.

Abby sighed sadly. "Alright. What am I printing?"

Gibbs handed her the evidence bags containing the half arrow from Tony's shoulder and the bloody arrow from the captain which had been extracted during autopsy.

Abby looked at the bloody one nervously. "This isn't..?"

Gibbs pointed to the barely stained half arrow. "This was Tony's."

"When can I see him Gibbs?"

"Soon, Abbs. Don't go without us alright?" he warned. "Print both of those and get them to me as fast as you can."

"For Tony, anything." Abby said scurrying off to the lab leaving Gibbs alone in the small conference room.

He stood next to the window with his hands in his pockets. He silently cursed not having a boat to work on and seriously considered running off the Centre for Wooden Boats to think instead.

He was worried about Tony. He was selfishly glad that he had not been the one to find him. The sight, having not been forewarned, could have sent him into a blind rage. He would never tell anyone, but he thought of DiNozzo like a son. The son he never had. Much like Abby was the daughter he'd lost.

He thought back to when he was running to see Tony when Ziva had told him. She was almost in tears much like the night she had come to see Gibbs himself in the hospital when he was mentally trapped in '92. She had been a wreck then and was bordering that state now.

Feeling a sudden shockwave of the gravity of the situation, Gibbs' heart went into a flurry of rapid pumping. He uncharacteristically began wringing his hands to quell the panic attack. If he had been a minutes later getting to Tony… He didn't even want to think about that.

"Boss?"McGee's voice broke the penetrating silence.

Gibbs turned on a dime, wiping the frightened look from his face. "Yeah, McGee?"

"Uh, are you alright there, boss?"

"The bow, McGee?"

"Yes, boss. The bow was about fifty-five or sixty pounds of draw."

"Do we have a make and model?"

"Uh, boss, longbows don't have makes and models to begin with and you can't tell from a shot arrow. We can't even tell you how long the bow was or how the tall the shooter was." McGee reported apologetically. Ziva appeared behind him.

Gibbs groaned in anguish. "Ultimate murder weapon!" He threw his hands into the air, completely unsure of what to do.

"Well, actually a fifty-five pound draw is pretty heavy, we can eliminate a lot of local archers because of that number. More when we can eliminate who didn't have access to this arrow."

"So you're telling me that we have to wait until God knows when for Rutherford to haul her ass back here and tell us who she gave those arrows to?" Gibbs' voice was raised higher than necessary.

"Well, not entirely, we could go back to the archery centre and ask about who shoots this weight." McGee offered trying desperately to keep his boss' anger at bay.

"It's closed. David, first thing tomorrow morning get Salma Rodgers on the phone. Don't get back to me without news. McGee… go do something!" Gibbs' face was turning purple in anger.

"Yes, boss." McGee followed Ziva out to go help Abby.

Gibbs buried his face in his hands and groaned.

******************************************************************************************

"Abby?" McGee called when he entered the lab.

"McGee?" Came Abby's voice from behind a replica of Major Mass Spec.

"Gibbs wanted me to do something useful. You need help?"

"No, but you can stick around here if you really have nothing to do."

"Thanks." His shoes squeaked on the waxed linoleum floor as he walked around Major Mass Spec's cousin to find Abby knocking her knuckles together before a computer screen waiting for a positive fingerprint match.

"I only found two usable prints: one index finger and a bad partial of a thumb. They were embedded in the blood and are probably those of the Captain. Tony's arrow had nothing. We have, like nothing to go on but a patch of t-shirt, McGee." Abby turned and hugged him in frustration.

"We also know who made the arrow and low heavy the bow was that shot it." McGee tried to reassure her.

"Still. Tony's down for the count and Ziva's a wreck. Gibbs isn't looking good either."

The machine beeped and both heads turned to see the result.

"Rats! They _are_ the Captain's. We have nothing, McGee, nothing!"

"Don't worr-" he was cut off by the ringing of his cell phone. He answered with a simple "McGee." He listened, Abby could hear Gibbs' voice coming from the other end. "Yeah, I'm with her… yeah, the only prints she could find both belonged to the Captain." He listened and hung up. "Gibbs told us to go get some rest. He wants us ready for tomorrow."

"What's happening tomorrow?"

"I guess we're talking to Lydsay Rutherford. Well, we are, you probably have to stay here." He hugged her. "I'm going to find Ziva. Go down to the car and I'll meet you there in a moment."

She nodded and watched McGee's back as he disappeared around the replica of Major Mass Spec.


	4. Chapter 4

Tony groaned from his place at the hospital. He had been drifting in and out of a morphine-induced sleep for hours since they had wheeled him to his room from recovery.

His dreams had been strange; recurring roles included Ziva and some 6'3" bald guy with a goatee that he had never seen in his life. In most of the dreams Ziva sat in a chair to the left of his hospital bed and would hold his hand or stroke his hair and promise him that everything would be alright. She'd say things like _You've survived the pneumonic plague, you can handle this_. At some point or other the bald guy would barge through the door on his right with a long bow and a quiver of red-fletched arrows. He would shoot Ziva right over the bed and she would writhe on the floor next to Tony, reaching for him as he died and he would cry because his limbs would freeze and he would be useless to her. He'd be inches from her and be unable to save her.

In one rendition of the dream he'd warned her but she would hear none of it. Then she would get shot again and he wouldn't be able to help her.

In the latest ha had started screaming her name in his frustration with not being able to help her. A nurse had come in to give him more intravenous meds to quell the madness. He couldn't help it. The dreams all seemed so real.

He heard the door open again and he looked over to see Ziva walk in, closing the door behind her. She sat to his left as always and took his hand. She drew small circles on the back of his hand with her soft thumb and she sang to him in Hebrew.

After several minutes tears began to fall from Tony's eyes.

"What is wrong, Tony?" Ziva put her free hand on his head and looked worriedly into his eyes.

"You need to run, this guy… he's going to kill you… please, go!" he begged.

"Tony! That is ridiculous. They would never let an armed man into the hospital." She said as the door opened. The icy-eyed bald man walked in and fitted an arrow into his bow. Ziva looked up calmly and hummed her Hebrew song to Tony.

"No… no… please, don't…" Tony pleaded in a choked whisper as the man drew his bow and aimed at Ziva's heart. Tony's limbs stiffened and froze once again. "Please…"

******************************************************************************************

Gibbs parked the Neon in the same place as he had yesterday. He, Ziva and McGee stepped out of the vehicle into the much more overcast day and walked into the building.

Salma looked up from some paperwork on the desk and pointed to the shooting line past the merchandise that separated the range from the desk.

The agents approached the shooting line. Nearly twenty shooters stood on the line. Some were stringing arrows, some were in mid- or full-draw, some stood meditating before a shot. Gibbs counted two longbow shooters on the line.

A blonde woman of about twenty was adjusting the drawing arm of a student who was holding his elbow too high.

Gibbs approached her once the shot was made.

"Lyndsay Rutherford?"

"The one and only. What can I do for ya?" she folded her arms across her chest and smiled.

Gibbs showed her ID and held out the photo of Tony's arrow.

"I'm Special Agent Gibbs of NCIS. Agents David, McGee and I are in town from D.C. We've been put on the case of the murder of Captain Xavier LaRoque."

"That's awful business, Agent Gibbs. What does that have to do with this arrow?" her voice still sounded cheerful though her face had changed to a grave look.

"He was shot with this. We'd like to know who you gave these arrows to."

"I'm sorry?"

"We were told by the Captain's daughter that you made this arrow."

Lyndsay looked confused and took the photo and examined it. "Did I ever." She finally came up with. "This is real old. I made that batch as one of my first! I gave those to my dad, Craig, another few to Farley, who's around… somewhere. Some to Chris, who's just there," she pointed to a strongly built teenager, "and a few went to John." She pointed to a lean man who had his back to the agents. He was demonstrating something with his drawing hand to a student.

"Hey Chris?" Lydsay called when the teenager had finished his shot and was taking his bow back to the rack. "What did you do with these arrows I gave you a few years back? She showed him the picture."

"Oh, geez, I totaled all of 'em last year in a game of knock-nock. Why do you ask?" His voice was high, as though that point in puberty had not yet been reached.

"Just wondering, Chris, thanks." She turned to call to a tall balding man who was approaching. "Hey, dad, what happened to these arrows I gave you?" She showed her father the picture.

"Those? I put those in that box in the basement. You know, the one where we put all the spares?"

"How many of them were there?" Gibbs asked him.

"Six maybe? Maybe eight, I'm not sure now. Why do you ask?"

"Captain Xavier LaRoque was murdered with one of these arrows yesterday. One of my agents was shot with one, as well. We need to know who had access to your box of spares."

"Oh, God, Xavier? Dammit I liked him. His daughter shoots here, she's just over there…" he pointed to the mystery student behind John. Sure enough there was Christine LaRoque listening intently to her teacher.

"The only people with access to our arrows were me and Lyndsay." Lyndsay's father put an arm over her shoulder.

"Thank you, Mr Rutherford. Lyndsay, how many arrows did you give to John over there?" Gibbs asked.

"Six, probably. I gave six to everyone." She said.

Gibbs took the picture back from Lyndsay and walked over to talk to John.

"You can do this, it's all in your control." John was saying.

"Yeah, I guess…" Christine faded out, putting her purple recurve bow on the rack.

"You're pretty!" John patted her shoulder trying to suck up for results, a tactic Gibbs was familiar with from working with Abby.

Christine smiled and walked down the range to retrieve her arrows.

John turned to face Gibbs, Ziva and Tim. The first thing that struck them all about this man was his eyes, shaded by a black cap that read _Hoyt_. They were like ice. His blonde goatee barely moved when John smiled at them.

"What can I do ya for?" He said cheerfully.

Gibbs held up the photo of the arrow. "Lyndsay told us she gave you a few of these arrows. Where are they?"

"Oh, those… uh… I have all of them upstairs in my longbow quiver, if you wanna see them."

"Yes, please." Gibbs said folding his arms across his chest.

John held up a finger to Christine implying he'd be back in a moment. Gibbs turned to look at McGee and Ziva.

"Ziva I want you to get those arrows from Mr Rutherford's house. _Ask_ first, please." He added as she began to walk away. When he had her nod of promise he looked to McGee. "I want you to double check that Chris kid's story and find this Farley character. I want _all_ the arrows Lyndsay Rutherford gave out."

"Yes, boss." McGee nodded and walked over to talk to Chris who was approaching his bow again.

"Here ya go." John gave Gibbs his quiver. "Who did you say you were again?"

"Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS." Gibbs inspected the quiver. He put on a glove and extracted exactly 6 plain wooden arrows with badly applied red fletching. He put them an evidence bag he took from his windbreaker pocket. "I'm going to need to take these back to my lab for some tests, John."

"Yeah sure."

"Thanks. McGee you got that kid's arrows?" Gibbs turned to his agent.

"Gah!" McGee fell over after being struck by the teenager's stabilizer. Chris bolted for the front door with Gibbs in hot pursuit. Ziva was talking to Lyndsay and Craig Rutherford next to the front door. "Ziva!" Gibbs hollered.

Ziva looked up but Craig reacted first. He blocked the door with his massive frame. Chris didn't react in time and ran face first into Craig's chest. He fell to the ground and Ziva quickly cuffed him.

Gibbs stopped before her as she stood Chris up roughly. "Get a squad car down here. I don't want him in our car." He instructed. Ziva nodded and held the boy in one hand and phoned the police station with her other hand.

"McGee, find this Farley guy and get his arrows." Gibbs ordered as soon as McGee caught up with them. His left eyebrow was bleeding and beginning to swell. Regardless of his obvious discomfort he nodded and headed upstairs to the second range to look for Farley.

"Keep him in your sight, Ziva." Gibbs told her. She nodded, still on the phone. Gibbs walked outside to take a deep breath.

_Dammit!_ He swore mentally. He'd been standing right there and now another one of his agents was hurt. Well, not seriously, but he was hurt anyway. Gibbs smacked himself on the back of the head. _Why the hell do I keep letting this happen? First Tony, now McGee… I've gotta catch this guy before Ziva or Abby get hurt on my watch._ He leaned his back against the wall of the building. _ That kid didn't help his case. If we can't get his arrows, we might not have a case against him._

******************************************************************************************

Gibbs looked at the teenage boy on the other side of the one-way glass. Chris, for a big guy, looked small. He was sweating bullets. He sure looked guilty.

Ziva and McGee stood next to Gibbs watching the boy break down slowly. McGee's eyebrow had been bandaged and the blood had stopped flowing. The gash on his head was nearly an inch long and had left bloody splotches on his sport coat.

Gibbs looked at his watch. "I'll give him another five minutes." He finished off his coffee and threw the cup in the trash.

"How do we get him? If he doesn't have any of his arrows left…" McGee began slowly looking to his boss for the answer.

"What we always do McGee. We get an alibi, a good one. We find out what happened to the other four arrows, and we find out what poundage his longbow is." He looked at his watch again. "Screw it. I'm going in." He turned on his heel and left reappearing on the other side of the glass.

He walked slowly over to stand facing McGee and Ziva on the other side of the glass. He waited a moment before speaking.

"Chris Stevens. You tried running today when my agent asked you for your arrows. Would you mind explaining to me why you did that?"

The boy was silent.

"Okay. Where were you yesterday from about ten o'clock through one o'clock in the afternoon?"

"At wrestling practice. St Matthew's high school. You can check, if you want."

"Oh, I will. Now, if you had an alibi…" Gibbs turned and leaned on his knuckles on the table. "…why'd you run earlier?"

"I… I got caught. Wait. Why are you asking me for an alibi for yesterday?"

"Because yesterday you shot and killed a Naval Captain! Captain Xavier LaRoque. You know his daughter, right?" Gibbs raised his voice.

"What? Xavier's dead? Holy shit… I didn't know, I swear! I though you brought me in here for…" his eyes grew wide like he knew he'd said too much.

"For what, Chris? The sooner you tell me the sooner I can tell you whether you're under arrest or not." Gibbs said.

"Might as well tell you now…" Chris recognized defeat and gave in. "I thought you were bringing me in because you found out that I was illegally hunting last month. Over in the Cascades; there were some great deer out there. I took my longbow and some old arrows, including all of Lyndsay's, and went shooting. I didn't bother to pick the arrows back up afterwards."

"How heavy is your longbow?"

"About forty-five pounds." Ten pounds too light.

"I'll have an officer in here to book you for the hunting charge."

"What about the 'murder' charge? What cleared me?"

"Your bow. We'll need to see it, by the way."

"Any time, just go to my house. Gimme some paper and I'll give you the address. My dad'll give it to you when you get there."

Gibbs handed him a pad and pen and the boy wrote down an address.

"Thanks, Chris."

"No problem." The kid looked up at the ceiling knowing he was in trouble.

Gibbs came back into the room where McGee and Ziva waited. He handed Ziva the paper.

"Go to this kid's house and get every longbow you can find. Bring them back here. We got that Farley guy's bow right?"

"Yep and Lyndsay and Craig's too." McGee answered.

"Good. Get me John's."

"Yes, boss."

"And both of you," Gibbs stopped them as they started to leave, "for God's sake take care of yourselves."


	5. Chapter 5

"Abbs?" McGee called into the lab to find the scientist.

In response came a metallic clank followed by some rattling and a second clank. "Yeah, McGee?"

McGee walked around the Mass Spectrometer to see Abby putting the string of another bow onto the hook of what looked like a grocery store fruit scale, which was suspended from a hook attached to the wall. She pulled the bow down to bring it to full draw, aiming at the floor. The whole scale rattled as it settled on the reading. Abby grunted as she let the bow down, trying not to loose her grip on it. She put it back on a rack she had set up and wrote down her findings.

"What are you..?" McGee began.

"Finding out whos bow weighs what. We have only two culprits." Abby picked up two bows. "These bows belong to Farley McClean and John Stein. McClean's is 55 pounds on the dot and Stein's is 60."

"Thanks, Abbs is there anything else you can tell me?" McGee said as he backed out of the lab.

"Tell Gibbs that I'm working on the arrows."

"Thanks, Abbs." He turned on a dime and walked out of the lab and headed down the hall to the conference room where Gibbs was brooding.

Well, he left Gibbs brooding there an hour ago. When Tim walked in, his boss was no where to be seen. McGee pulled out his phone and called his boss.

_"Gibbs."_

"Hey, boss it's McGee. Abby finished with the draw weights of the bows, we finally got them all. Two fit the weight description, Farley McClean and John Stein."

_"Have you brought them in yet?"_

"No, I just got the results, I was about to get to that, I just thought I'd let you know."

_"Well, now I know McGee. Get on it."_

"Yes, boss."

Gibbs hung up his phone and looked over the water of the wooden boat centre. It wasn't his basement, but it was more relaxing than being in that damn conference room. The chairs were all too comfortable, the floor was carpeted, the walls were an obnoxious shade of pumpkin, and the whole building smelled like lemon cleaner. He wanted sawdust to think. Lemons were too... frankly they reminded him of being married to women who liked to clean. That damn lemon smell haunted him from his married days.

One last inhale of fresh air and he walked back to the small parking lot to his Neon to drive back and find the killer of the Captain.

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************

Gibbs sipped at a coffee on the viewing side of the one-way glass looking in at Farley McClean. John Stein was coming in from Olympia where he'd been visiting Lyndsay's mother with her.

Gibbs sniffed and looked at his watch then to the door as Ziva entered.

"Has Stein come in yet?" Gibbs asked looking back to Farley who was scratching his face and becoming irritated with the wait.

"He left an hour ago, I would imagine he will arrive soon." She folded her arms around a file and over her chest. "Are we going to question him?"

"Yep. I was waiting for an update on Stein first." Gibbs put his empty cup in the trash and exited to viewing room. He reappeared on the other side of the glass. He sat at the table across from Farley and pulled a folder out from his jacket and placed it on the table. He opened the folder and pulled several photos from it and showed them to Farley McClean.

Farley sighed. "I heard Xavier was killed. That's a real shame, he was a great guy. Nice daughter, too, he raised her right."

"Where were you yesterday between ten and one in the afternoon?"

"At the range. Practicing for a big shoot thats coming up. A dude from Portland is coming up to compete, we're in the same category and he beat me at the last shoot. I'm not gonna let him have that satisfaction this time around."

"Witnesses?"

"Yeah, Salma, at the front desk, her husband, Marty, and that's about it. Quiet day, it was a Friday."

Gibbs held up the picture of the arrows. "Were these the only ones of this description the Lyndsay Rutherford gave you?"

"Yeah. She gave me those a few years back. I only use 'em indoors, though. I have a second set I use for hunting. I made all those though."

"They've all got broad-heads, I suppose?"

"Yep. And if your gonna ask..." Farley leaned forward on his elbows. "None of them are red."

"What can you tell us about..."

"Boss?" McGee burst through the door. "I need a word, now."

Gibbs stood up, irritated at the intrusion, and followed McGee out the door.

"What is it, McGee?" Gibbs asked harshly after closing the door.

"Up at the front desk they got a call. A missing person's report for Christine LaRoque." McGee watched as Gibbs covered his face with his hands and groan.

"How long has she been missing?"

"Since about an hour after we left the range, so four or five hours ago. She was supposed to arrive at her boyfriends house after leaving practice and she never showed up."

"Why didn't I know about this?" Gibbs yelled as he walked into the viewing room to include Ziva in the conversation.

"The call only came in just now."

"What is going on?" Ziva asked.

"Christine LaRoque is missing." Gibbs said just as Ziva's phone rang.

"David." she answered. "Thank you." She hung up.

"Stein is here." she reported.

Gibbs looked at the floor and put his hands on his hips. He sighed exhaustedly. McGee and Ziva exchanged glaces while the smoke began to pour out of Gibbs' ears. His brow furrowed and his sea-like eyes churned with the internal storm that was long past brewing.

"McGee, I want you and Ziva out looking for her. I'll question Stein." Gibbs finally said opening the door and heading to the front desk to get Stein.

"Where do you want us to look, boss?" McGee inquired following his boss out with Ziva in hot pursuit.

"Head down to Olympia."

"Wait, boss." McGee stopped Gibbs. "You think Stein did it?"

"Yeah, McGee, I do." Gibbs left the two in the hall looking at each other worriedly.

*******************************************************************************************************************************************

Tony lay in his bed thinking he'd gone insane. He was almost enjoying the pain throbbing through his body now. He had asked to be taken off the morphine so he wouldn't have to see Ziva continually dying. Once or twice Probie or Gibbs had come in and were shot. Once Abby entered the dream he'd had enough. Watching her die was agony. She was like his little sister.

Now the pain coursed through his body every time his heart beat, which was often. He took solace in the fact that he wouldn't have to see anyone die until he fell asleep, which he was willing his body not to do. The nurses had become angry with his resistance to sleep, saying he needed the rest. They had put him out with a powerful pill and he did not dream until he began to wake up. He wouldn't sleep willingly until this guy was caught, he knew that.

He had memorized the man's face. Ice crystals for eyes and a small blonde goatee which contrasted his bald head well. He had a small mouth, like McGee's, and a tiny nose, like Palmer's. The man's body was lean, his arms were strong from so many years of archery practice. His bow twanged menacingly every time an arrow was shot, every arrow cracked against the ribs of his co-workers so sickeningly that once or twice he had actually thrown up.

The look in his colleages eyes was unforgetable. The fear, pain and pleading in them hurt to see as their body's convulsed with the pain he knew too well, and their hands reached out to try and hold his as they died.

He remembered when Gibbs was writhing on the floor. A final whisper escaped his wisened lips as he breathed what Tony was his last breath, "_Semper Fi_."

He remembered Probie. His green eyes welled up with tears, just as they had when Kate died, when he killed that officer in the alley-way. What he said almost broke Tony's heart. "_Tony... help me... please_." Tim pleading with him for help; tears in his voice, his chest bleeding... a strong man becoming so small on the floor before Tony's eyes. He really did like, McGee, he considered him one of his best friends.

Abby... Abby. While she bled she tried to turn over and move over to Tony to hold his hand as she died. Her cracking voice calling his name over and over again had been the end of the dreams for him. There was no way he could watch Abby die again. She was a tall, powerful woman, and something so seemingly harmless and taken her down.

He caught himself humming the Hebrew song Ziva had been humming to him in his dreams and stopped himself. He didn't want to think about the dreams. He just wanted the pain and suffering to end.


	6. Chapter 6

John Stein sat on one side of the table and Gibbs immediatly sat with a harsh violent movement across from him. No foreplay today.

"Where were you yesterday between ten and one in the afternoon?" his voice had a deathly edge to it.

"At home. Watching the game." John answered calmly.

"Witnesses?"

"None."

Gibbs was about to light into him when a small knock came from the door. He stood angrily and opened it. Abby stood on the other side of the door.

"Gibbs..." Abby said as she pulled him into the hallway. He closed the door behind her. "Stein's arrows, did he say they were all given to him by Rutherford?"

"Yeah."

"He's lying. These four arrows..." she showed him four in one evidence bag she carried, "they matched the arrows belonging to the Rutherfords and McClean. But these two..." she held up a second bag, "they don't. The glue is different. A different chemical make-up _and_ the amount of setting time the glue's had would suggest that they were made, like, yesterday. I also found traces of male sweat between the glue and the arrow shaft. These arrows were _not_ made by Lyndsay Rutherford."

"Good work, Abbs. Do you know who's sweat it is?"

"Yes. It's Stein's. I matched the sample to a sample in the system that belonged to him. He was taken in a few years ago on an assult charge."

"That's good work Abbs." Gibbs sqeezed her shoulder and went back into the room with the arrows.

He held up the bags to show Stein. "These were made by Lyndsay Rutherford." He held up the corrseponding bag to the statement. "These were made by you. Yesterday." He held up the other bag, then put them both on the table. "We have enough to get you for the murder of Captain Xavier LaRoque."

John only nodded in response.

"Why'd you do it?"

John only smiled and laughed a low-pitched, sadistic laugh.

Gibbs slammed his hands down on the desk right next to Stein.

"Where is she?"

John looked up at him with icy eyes. "She didn't like what I did for her. I killed him for her. So we could be together."

"Did you know she had a boyfriend?" Gibbs asked.

"She was going to break up with him for us. I just had to take care of her father." he said folding his hands on the table.

"Where. Is. She?" Gibbs put his face inches from Stein's.

"She said she'd never talk to me again after what I did. She said that I was an evil person. She was crazy! She made me kill her father then she had the nerve to say I'm evil? Ha! She needed to be taken care of. Someone like that... she doesn't deserve to live."

"WHERE IS SHE?" Gibbs hollered.

"You'll never find her." he began to laugh slowly. "We were going to get married. We loved each other."

Gibbs pushed off from the table. He'd seen enough. The tick of the muscle on the right of his neck, the dilation of his eyes... Christine wasn't the crazy one. He was.

Gibbs was about to leave when he saw the handle of a hunting knife poking from the inside pocket of his jacket. John noticed Gibbs' gaze and withdrew the knife. He opened it and the blade was coated in dried blood. He put it down on the table and Gibbs put in a bag he drew from his pocket.

"You'll never find her _alive_."

"You wanna bet you sick son of a-" he kept himself from cursing at the man. He knew from his experience being himself that if he began swearing at this man he'd eventually deck him.

He grabbed his phone and called McGee.

_"McGee."_

"Tell me you found her?"

_"No, we haven't. Boss, what's wrong."_ From the other end he could hear Ziva questioning what Gibbs was doing.

"Stein had a bloody knife in his jacket. He told me... he said 'you won't find her alive.' You need to find her, McGee."

_"Yes boss."_

McGee hung up his phone. "We got Stein. He confessed. There's reason to believe Christine might be dead already."

Ziva put a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes. "Oh, God."

McGee pulled up on the side of the road where a crew of searchers he had requested was already searching the side of the highway for Christine LaRoque.

He and Ziva leaped from the car and put on gloves and began searching.

Tim leaped up onto a rock that would give him better access to the top of a steep, rocky wall no one had gotten to yet. He got the top of the wall with not luck. No blood, no hair, no footprints, nothing. No sign that she had been there. He put his hands on his hips and looked around him. The side of the wall was grassy and not very steep, maybe 45 degrees.

He squinted at a small blue mass at the bottom. The nearest searchers were farther from the mass than he, so he ran down the hill, sure he had found her.

He approached the mass to find that it was a hoodie, a bloody one. He picked it up and looked it over. Blood covered the front and slightly splotched the back and sides of the woman's hoodie. He looked around and could see no sign of the girl or any other clothing.

He had just decided on exploring a small group of trees he heard a gurgled whine. He looked around him to find the source of the sound. It came again, from his left. He dropped the hoodie and hurried over the sound that came again and again.

He dropped to his knees when he saw her. She lay on the ground, her back flat on the dirt and her legs bent and fallen sideways to her left twisting her body. Her jeans and green t-shirt were soaked with blood and a thick gash across her neck had congealed. Her eyes were blood-shot andher face tear stained. She looked into his eyes with the most pleading look he'd ever seen. He took her hand and called out to the rest of the search party.

"I've got her!" he yelled. He heard muffled foot falls coming in his direction.

He raised a hand and pushed the sweat soaked hair from her fore-head. She mouthed a "thank-you", and a few tears fell down her face.


	7. Chapter 7

Gibbs stood on the other side of the hospital room looking into the slightly-glazed over eyes of Christine LaRoque. She stared back. She was getting over the mental cloudyness of the pain meds the doctors had prescribed. The cut hadn't been very deep, she would live. She could speak coherently, although the damage done would cause her to stutter and choke while she spoke, but her vocal chords still worked.

"Boss?" McGee walked into the room after speaking with the doctors about Christine's condition.

"Yeah, McGee?" Gibbs didn't take his eyes off the girls face for a second.

"Um, Christine's mother is here to see her, I told her to wait..."

"Good job, McGee." Gibbs walked away from the wall and sat in the chair next to the right side of Christine's bed. "Christine, do you have any idea why John Stein would do this to you?"

Christine shook her head. "He wa-was always s-so nice."

Gibbs folded his arms across his chest and McGee watched uneasily from in front of the closed door. "He said you were going to get married. Where did he get that idea?"

Christine's eyes reached the size of dinner plates and she started coughing from the surprize. "Wh-what? He... he's my coach. That's all he was. He's da-dating Lyndsay."

"He told us, that you were going to leave your boyfriend so the two of you could be together. He said you loved each other. He said you told him to kill your father so the two of you could be together. Where did he come up with these ideas?"

A few tears slipped from Christine's eyes. "Lyndsay told me he had undergone psychiatric evaluation after that assult a few years back... she said they gave him meds to fix something they found wrong. She said he was fine now. But, I've spoken to him before. He told me things... things he imagined. He came up with stories, elaborate stories about everything. He told me about his vivid dreams, and how, sometimes, he couldn't distringuish between reality and the dreams. He laughed it off and said no harm would come from it. I guess he was wrong."

"I guess." Gibbs said. "Did he ever do anything to you before now? Did he say anything inappropriate, or anything that made you feel uncomfortable?"

"He kept telling me I was pretty. But, I just th-thought that he was trying to bribe me to shoot better, to get me to be happy when I was having a bad day... all the coaches do that to the team. I guess he wasn't meaning it as a bribe." She weakly lifted a hand to her face and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "God, I-I should have said something to someone. This is all my fault."

"Did you ever say anything about wanting your father dead?"

"No!" she choked once and recovered. "I loved my father, Agent Gibbs. He takes- _took_ good care of my mother and me."

"Alright. That's all for now." Gibbs stood, looking, much to McGee's surprise, defeated. "Your mother is outside."

Christine's face lit up. Tim opened the door and a bulky woman rushed in to sit where Gibbs had just a moment earlier. The two smiled and cried as the two agents left and closed the door behind them.

"Boss?" McGee walked beside his boss down to the elevators. "What do you think?"

"He was crazy, Tim. He was under the delusion that this girl loved him and he loved her. He saw the father as a threat, he took him out. The girl figured out what he'd done, told him off, he took her and tried to kill her. But he couldn't do it, that's why the cut was so shallow. He didn't want to hurt her but he thought he had to."

"So, why'd he shoot Tony?"

"Right after I called you his exact words to me were 'I can't believe I had to shoot the bastard twice.' I said to him 'You didn't.' He says 'So you're telling me I shot a ghost?' I said 'No, you shot one of my agents.' He just looked at me. I told him he was being charged with double homicide and I left him there. He's going to be in jail for the rest of his life."

"What if he pleads insanity?"

"Then he'll get into an assylum for the rest of his life, McGee. I don't care. As long as he's away from people he can hurt."

The two men boarded the elevator. There was a man in a wheelchair and a woman behind him holding his IV cart. They went up two floors and the agents got off. They walked down the long hallway to the second last door on the right. It was closed. They gently opened it and walked inside.

Ziva was holding Tony's weak hand. They were talking about something and he was laughing weakly. He had so little energy left in him, Tim was surprised he could actually recognize him as Tony. His skin was pale, his cheeks were sunken, but his eyes still sparkled with adolescent mischief. If was _definately_ Tony.

The pair looked up at Gibbs and McGee and smiled.

"Hey, Boss. Tim." Wow, was he ever sick, McGee thought. He never called him Tim.

"How you feeling, DiNozzo?" Gibbs sat in a chair on the other side of Tony's bed, opposite Ziva who occupied the only other chair in the room which left McGee stranded at the foot of the bed.

"Like crap. Heard you caught the guy."

"We did. John Stein. He was crazy; thought the daughter was in love with him, so he killed LaRoque to be with her. She had no idea." Gibbs replied.

**********************************************************************************************

At 1600 hours only McGee was left in the small hospital room keeping his partner company.

The two men had been silent for some time but it was a comfortable silence.

"Hey, McGee?" Tony broke the silence.

"Yeah, Tony?"

"What did Stein look like?"

"Uh," Tim was slightly taken aback by the odd question but consented to answer nontheless. "Tall guy, bald, ball cap..."

"Ice blue eyes?" Tony finished.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

Tony sighed, his eyes closed. He remembered watching Tim dying on the floor, tears in his eyes, pleading for Tony to save him. The ice-eyed man he now knew to be Stein standing at the door looking satisfied was laughing. Tony couldn't tell Tim how he'd felt about seeing him die. After all, he couldn't let Tim know that he'd gone soft, right?

"Lucky guess, McGee. Just a lucky guess."


End file.
